


Embrace

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Oops, im a little tipsy myself, just a little drabble, rose gets drunk, sorrry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:02:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2716502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>===> Rose, drink</p>
<p>You finish the last of your glass, first sweet as it meets your tongue. It embraces you as if a lover, a mother, an old and dear friend, only to eventually abandon you bitter as its poison seeps further into your body, leaving only the aftertaste in its wake, a lonely one night lover. The memory sits light on your tongue, sickly sweetness coming back to fight that bitter bite every time you exhale. There is a warmth in your chest, and your heart is ecstatic, pushing blood through you rapidly, pumping the toxins through your system.</p>
<p>God you love wine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> just a quick drabble. i've recently started drinking for unhealthy reasons, though thinkfully not to an devastating extend, and i just wnated to write about it through one of the best characters ever written in the history of thworld.

===> Rose, drink

You glance around nervously before pulling the cork off the bottle of wine. Not that there's anything to be afraid of. You're the Seer of Light, you know that you will be gone before anyone sees. Still you pour your glass hastily, allowing it to slosh and stain your fingers. The walls crowd in on you as if to look with judging eyes and scream at you with painful words your betrayal, your stupidity, for sinking into the shadows cast by your light. You put the cork on, captchalogue the bottle, and slink away in shame as you sip your beverage.

By the time you're in your room with the door locked, you can feel the buzz in your head.

You finish the last of your glass, first sweet as it meets your tongue. It embraces you as if a lover, a mother, an old and dear friend, only to eventually abandon you bitter as its poison seeps further into your body, leaving only the aftertaste in its wake, a lonely one night lover. The memory sits light on your tongue, sickly sweetness coming back to fight that bitter bite every time you exhale. There is a warmth in your chest, and your heart is ecstatic, pushing blood through you rapidly, pumping the toxins through your system. 

God you love wine.

You smile, and allow your guilt to fall to the wayside a little as you pull your laptop out of its knitted cozy and begin to write. You poor another glass. Your fingers don't quite make it to the write keys, but it''s manageable enough; you'll fix it later. You pour another glass. You find yourself spacing out and fantasizing more than writing. You pour another glass. You set your laptop down and just think blurred thought for a while, letting your ideas run into each other, hoping you remember the pieces when you're more sober.

Kanaya would prefer you be sober right now, you know.

You don't want to think about Kanaya right now. She is too good to you. Too good for you.

You hesitate.

You pour another drink.

***

Hours later, in a relative sense considering that time hardly has meaning where you are, you pull yourself into a seated position. You are on the floor next to the bed, its sheets torn and jumbled. Cymbals crash, your head between them, as you glance wearily around your room. You think you nearly pass out again as you wobble to your feet only to collapse on the bed. You'd say you were dying, but you'd just laugh at the sincerity of the melodrama, and you aren't entirely sure your body can handle laughter at the moment.

It would be healthiest to have water and maybe something healthy, like vegetables.

You pull a bottle from your sylladex. Vodka's quicker.

You smile at the sweet embrace, and shudder at the aftertaste.

You should save that for Dave, you think, pulling up your laptop.

**Author's Note:**

> tbh i just want to marry the lalondes  
> maybe i'll do a roxy thing too  
> theyre both such babes shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit
> 
> i wasdrunk when i wrote this, so i'll probably come back and edit it sober  
> or not  
> who knows


End file.
